To Kill the Pope (40 page)

The monsignor, however, was not in the tiny, square room when Tim arrived. The usher waved him to a straight chair at a small table in the center, asking him to wait a minute or so. Sainte-Ange materialized from a side door fifteen minutes later, plopping himself down on the other chair and explaining breathlessly that he had been delayed by urgent business with the Holy Father. Tim smiled politely.

“So, Father Savage, please tell me, in as much detail as possible, about your travels, investigations, and accomplishments,” the monsignor asked in his accented English. “Skip nothing. But, first and foremost, have you brought us the truth the Holy Father so fervently desires?”

The monsignor cultivated the gift of sounding patronizing to everybody below the rank of pope. That it antagonized Curial cardinals and archbishops, prefects of congregations and presidents of pontifical councils and commissions troubled him not at all. He had the power. Now he was addressing Tim in his accustomed way, though at their original meeting he had made an effort at friendly warmth.

“I cannot claim, Monsignor, to have the full and complete truth, certainly not in a documented fashion,” Tim said, having rehearsed his presentation over and over since Angela's call the day before. He paused briefly, for effect, and continued:

“To sum it up, my professional conclusion is that the conspiracy to assassinate the Holy Father on May 13, 1981, was conceived and directed by Archbishop Jules Leduc and his senior associates in the Pius V Fraternity in the south of France. I met with the archbishop and he doesn't deny—nor does he formally confirm—this fact. He is conducting a crusade—it is his word—against the Holy See and its present head, and believes that it is a just war—
ius bellum
—in which killing is permissible.

“To execute the plot and conceal its authorship, the archbishop
and his associates turned to Muslim fundamentalists in Toulouse with whom the Pius V Fraternity maintains close contacts—as fellow fundamentalists—to procure and hire an assassin. The Muslims, as I understand it, agreed to do so on the grounds of religious fundamentalist solidarity. They were not told by the Fraternity at the time that His Holiness would be the target. The Toulouse Muslims, working through their European channels, entered in communication with a terrorist organization in Turkey, requesting that a first-rate gunman be selected and hired for the job—with a guarantee of substantial payments, before and after the attack. The assassin, of course, was Agca Circlic. But it was only in Rome, a few days prior to the shooting, that Agca Circlic was instructed by an emissary of the Fraternity, who had been sent from Toulouse with the final orders, that Pope Gregory XVII was to be his victim. Circlic doesn't know to this day who had actually ordered and financed the conspiracy and had hired him. This is why he was so totally useless to Italian investigators. The archbishop and the Fraternity had assumed that with an unwitting Circlic in prison or dead—they realized that he might have been killed on the spot, which would have been just fine with them—their secret would never surface and the world would accept the ‘Muslim Connection' or Soviet theories, and let the matter lapse and be forgotten. They were basically right. The Muslims in Toulouse have subsequently learned that they had been used; they were shocked, but not about to disclose their role. My impression, however, is that the archbishop and his people have not given up and that the Holy Father remains in great danger. You are facing extreme theological fanatics with total determination, vast resources, a highly professional organization, and a very considerable following . . . I have no idea how they might react to the excommunication of the archbishop . . .”

Deep silence fell over the confining, small room. Monsignor Sainte-Ange shifted his weight in his chair. Tim stared at the ceiling.

“This is most interesting,” he said at length. “But can you estimate how widely this knowledge is disseminated, if at all? Who else knows about it?”

“It's very difficult to say,” Tim replied. “Different people are
aware of different aspects of the conspiracy. The Muslims, for example, know what they actually did in this affair while lacking most of the background of what led the Catholics to solicit their help. Archbishop Leduc and some of his top people in the Pius V Fraternity naturally know what they had planned and set in motion. But they, too, have gaps concerning how the Muslims in France and elsewhere had handled the planning. The Catholics, it seems, trusted the Muslims completely. So what I've done to the best of my ability is to pull together as much knowledge as possible. But there could be some useful information for you with the French Secret Service. I thought it would be prudent for me to stay away from them.”

“I see,” the monsignor said, ignoring Tim's remark about the SDECE. “But is there any proof of anything that you've told me? Any proof at all? I heard you say that you could not document your findings, which is understandable, but does it mean that we must rely on nothing more than what various persons wished to plant with you—which could be the case?”

Tim refrained from telling Sainte-Ange much of his conversation with Leduc, as well as details of his meetings in Istambul and Paris. Likewise, he omitted Jake Kurtski's attack on him in Fanjeaux on the Fraternity's orders. He felt increasingly uneasy with the private secretary, an unease that grew because of the manner in which he formulated his questions. It was as if the monsignor was attempting to rebut or undermine the conclusions that Tim had presented to him; he was almost hostile.

“Well,” Tim said, “I am going on what I was able to learn from different individuals—I don't know how else to conduct an investigation—and making a judgment of whether it is credible. I also engaged in considerable reading—history, religion, heresies, biographies, and so forth, so that I could better understand the context into which new information fits. Patterns then emerge to make some or all of the pieces fall into place. This is how intelligence work is done. And, as you know, proof is like evidence in a criminal case, and this, of course, is one. Not having hard proof or evidence in hand immediately, does not mean that it will not materialize subsequently. There rarely exists instant public confessions. So one goes on working . . . And, yes, there always are
loose ends. Finally, it depends on what you plan to do with all this material. If you do not propose to go public with it and, instead, keep it secret, then formal proof isn't necessary anyway—so long as you believe the conclusions. But it's none of my business what you wish to do with it.”

“No, it's none of your business,” Sainte-Ange agreed pointedly. “In any event, you are not to discuss this matter with anybody—probably forever. This is a direct order from the Holy Father. In the meantime, please remain available at all times. I may have additional questions after I've digested what you brought me today and have discussed it with His Holiness.”

“Will I have a chance to present my findings personally to the Holy Father?” Tim asked.

“I doubt it,” the monsignor answered. “He's extremely busy these days. But I promise you that the Holy Father will hear every word of it from me.”

*  *  *

Sainte-Ange knocked lightly on the door before entering the papal study. Gregory XVII was at his desk, writing by hand in French the first draft of an encyclical on social justice versus capitalism. Now that Marxism was in retreat everywhere, he hoped to issue it early the following year. The final text would be translated into Latin for publication. He looked up questioningly.

“Holy Father,” the private secretary said, “the American Jesuit has completed his mission and he has just left me after presenting his conclusions. Is this is a good time to acquaint you with his findings?”

“Yes, by all means, go ahead,” the pope told him. “Is it as bad as we feared, better, or worse?”

“Actually, it is all of these things and a great many elements remain unclear,” the monsignor said. “But this is the best we can ever hope to obtain as the trail grows cold. You were absolutely right, Holy Father, to decide to undertake our own secret investigation after the Italian government formally ended their inquiries. Had we waited longer, we might have lost the thread of events altogether. In any case, we have agreed—as you will recall—never to make the findings public, whatever they might be. Since nobody knows about the existence of our investigation—except the two of
us, Sister Angela, and the American—there will be no pressure to disclose anything. Sister Angela, who naturally will not be apprised of the conclusions, will be in no position to reveal any materials. Besides, I trust her implicitly: I hired her because she is the daughter of close friends in Paris. The American, who is a totally obscure personage, has no reason or incentive to break the secrecy. I am sure that he realizes that whatever he might say on the subject would be instantly denied by the Holy See on the highest level. And he has no written proof of what he claims to have learned. So, in this sense, we need not be concerned.”

“If the Vatican Secret Archives were still secret, I suppose we could store all that information there,” Gregory XVII said with light sarcasm. “So we'll keep it in our heads. But do get to the point, please.”

“First and most important of all,” the monsignor related, “it did not come from inside the Vatican. That would have been what we had feared the most. And Savage, the American, confirms what we thought all along, that you were the victim of the ‘Muslim Connection.' The Turk had been recruited by a Muslim terrorist organization without being told, until the last moment in Rome, that you were the person he was to assassinate. That is the good part, meaning that we now know that Circlic was not a madman acting on his own, as many investigators had suspected at the outset. And, as you remember, Holy Father, Circlic never revealed to the Italian investigators nor to the tribunal that tried him the identity of those who had hired and paid him. Savage says that he was able to establish clearly the link between him and the Turkish terrorist organization. He seems to have no indications that an Islamic government might have been behind it—at least, he made no mention of it to me. This, of course, is very important to us because it removes possible clouds over your efforts to strengthen the dialogue between the Church and Islam. So our Islam and Middle East policies are safe.”

“What about the theory that the Soviet Union and the Bulgarian secret service, acting for the KGB, were the authors and executors of the conspiracy?” the pope asked. “I am assuming that we are dealing with a conspiracy, whatever its origins.”

“It doesn't appear plausible, either,” the monsignor answered.
“The American made no references to it, and I suspect that he shares the CIA's conclusions, with which he is surely familiar, that Moscow had no part in it. And it makes good sense: From everything we've seen in recent years, the Soviets are interested in good relations with the Vatican, and killing you would not have advanced their cause in the world, particularly since that fellow Gorbachev took over.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Gregory XVII remarked with a smile. “At least I don't have to go to war against him with all of the ‘Pope's Divisions,' as Stalin once put it. But, seriously, it
is
a good thing to know. Remember the effort by the Americans and everybody else at the time to discredit the Soviet theory so that they wouldn't be forced to break relations, or worse, with the Russians? I imagine this is why the CIA chose to shoot down that theory, just in case . . . But if not an Islamic government or the Soviets,
who
did organize the conspiracy against me? Any suggestions from your Jesuit?”

“This, I'm afraid, is the bad part of his conclusions, and I think that he came quite close to the whole truth,” Sainte-Ange told the pope, his forehead wrinkled in concern. “The American insists that he has obtained information during the several weeks he spent in the south of France that the conspiracy had been originally hatched there by what he calls ‘Catholic fundamentalists' who used their contacts with Muslim fundamentalists in Toulouse to have them arrange to recruit Circlic through their connections in Turkey. Apparently, Catholic fundamentalists and Muslim fundamentalists feel solidarity with each other.”

“You mean, ‘Fundamentalists of the World, Unite!'?” the pope commented with a smile. “But actually your man may be on to something. Such ties, if not actual alliances, do exist among religious extremists around the world. Do you think that what he had in mind was our friend Archbishop Leduc and his Pius V Fraternity? Right in our backyard in the South?”

“Savage did not mention specifically Leduc or the Fraternity,” the monsignor replied in the soothing voice he always adopted with his old friend the pope, especially when he was dissembling. “And I doubt that, despite, his professional talents and his excellent command of the French language, he would have been able
to penetrate their organization to such an extent. The Muslims there probably never heard of Leduc and his Fraternity. Also, I don't believe that Savage understands enough about all the fights and intrigues in the French Church to make any sense of it. He did say, however, that some people in a position to know refused to confirm or deny that any of our fellow French Catholics were out to murder you. The American also fears that you still are in danger . . . My own impression is that he is right about Catholic fundamentalists, but that they are a handful of individual fanatics and not an organization like the Pius V Fraternity.”

Gregory XVII leaned forward over his desk, running the fingers of his right hand up and down over his lips as he always did when he was in deep thought.

“I hope and pray that you are correct in your assumptions,” he said after a while. “I realize that Leduc hates and despises me, that he personally is a fanatic, and that he has much support in the French Church. He has led his people into schism despite my efforts to negotiate at least a truce with him, but this is very far from planning to murder the pope. Much as he annoys and frustrates me—as he did by forcing me finally to excommunicate him—I cannot conceive of Leduc having recourse to assassination to settle theological or liturgic differences with Rome and with me. Besides, he is a priest, respectful of life, and I must reject the notion that he could, in effect, be a murderer. “It's absurd . . . I wonder, however, why even certified fanatics, acting as individuals, would want me dead?”